Saying yes...

Home Sweet Home

At some point in late October, I got an email passing on the news I knew I would at some point hear... my parents were planning on selling their house. Although this was not a 100% surprise, it felt like a sock to the gut. My father has not been doing well for the past 18 months, and as they move from diagnosis to diagnosis, he's becoming a shell of the father I've known most of my life... but that's another post...

With my father not doing as well and all of us *children* long grown and gone, the house was becoming too much. The yard, a block long, was even more so. While my parents have help to attend to a number of things, there are many things they love to do themselves. The gardens were one of them. They've had the continual battle between my mother's choice of perennials and my father's love of annuals... I think for a moment my mother actually saw victory at hand what with Dad not being able to get out there and *unknowingly* rip out a perennial in order to make room for his master plan... but in reality, my mother wasn't up for that much yard either.

No, they would be selling the house they built some 43 years ago... the only childhood home I've ever really known. And what a house it was/is. It's a wonderful house with plenty of room, plenty of character. It's a house with a wonderful location. A house with a long history of living in it. My parents have never shied away from having people over whether it be for a year or a night. We had an assorted 4-7 exchange students, some legitimate, some who sent siblings back in later years, some who just needed a place for the weekend. There has always been an interesting group of people meandering through the doors, whether my father's business colleagues, friends of my siblings and myself,  or some new soul who had landed in our town. You never knew who was coming to dinner. One of my sisters and I used to bemoan this during our college years. We'd want nothing more than to just go home for the holidays and eat a home-cooked meal in the comfort of our sweats while licking our post-final wounds, but nooooooo. No, instead we heard that *Helmut* and *Herta* had been transferred to town due to Helmut's business and had nowhere to go for Christmas dinner! Of course Mom and Dad would know that there was someone new in town and of course they'd be at our dinner. No sweats would be worn and interesting conversation would be wrangled from our tired souls.

Many invites circulated around my father's obsession with barbecuing... he had an awesome record of not missing a month of bbqing some form of meat for 35+ years (sometimes it was best not to know what the meat was...). He traveled a lot for his work, but still managed to make sure no trip was longer than 3 1/2 weeks so he could keep that record running. The grilling was done on his magnificent bbq pit that he built himself when they built the house. It's brick and has a roof and lights... and when it was first built, we'd find coins in it... it turns out the neighbors thought it was a wishing well.  The bbq pit was made large enough to hold one large hog, which it did almost every year when my parents held their annual pig roast for 350+ of their closest friends. I loved those roasts, always held on a Sunday...loved waking up to the sound of the motor on the rotisserie... I probably also loved the fact that we wouldn't have to go to church, but that's another post...

Wedding receptions were held at this house, grandchildren were born and came to love this house. Crazy antics went on in this house, but that's another post... This house has been used and cared for and has held a lot of life (it still doesn't smell like an old person's house!)  My parents, however, never ones to shy away from where life was taking them, or rather, where they were taking life, have decided it's time to move on.

Frankly, I think my mother wants to close this chapter of their lives with my father still present and for that, I can't blame her. They met in Kindergarten and have been together more or less ever since... that's approx. 75 years. In a few days, they'll celebrate their 58th wedding anniversary. I can see why my mother wants to close this chapter her own way. She's always done things her own way, why should this be any different.

In June, they'll be in a new house... one with no stairs, no multiple levels, elderly-friendly details, a small, easily maintained yard. Yes, I said new. When it became clear that no condos were opening up, my mother decided they needed to build and build something that would suit their elderly years even though my mother, at 80, is nowhere near what I would consider elderly. She's busy picking colors and lighting fixtures, she's even been planting planter boxes so they'll have flowers once they move in (I'm guessing she's already got the perennials ordered for the backyard...). Have I mentioned that not much gets between my mother and an idea??

My father, while not as *young* and energetic as my mother, is also embracing this move. It is their willingness to embrace a different stage, a different direction, that is making the thought of parting with this house a little easier... and yet, I'd be lying if I didn't say there are nights where I wake up and the knowledge that this place will no longer be mine, slips into my unguarded mind and I feel sick to my stomach. I've been away from *home* for a long time. I have my own home, but in the back of my mind, I knew I still had access. To not have that anymore will be... different.

And, when not thinking clearly, I also wonder... will the house miss us?? Will it wonder where its people went?? I just hope whomever moves in next... the second owner in 40-some years, will be kind to it and be open to all it has to offer... even offering up a meal if Helmut and Herta stop back through.

I know I'm lucky... I still have my parents and parents are more important than a house. I'm lucky in that I got to live in it, live in the same place for so long, even if sometimes going elsewhere seemed preferable. I've been lucky and I am lucky... and, it's just a house.

But it still feels like I'm losing someone.

This judge calls a moratorium on meat chatter

Ok- we're barely two days into this year's Holiday Bake-Off season and the meat commentary has reached a fevered pitch. Meat commentary must cease until further notice if you want any points for your current Cookie Queen and one of this year's judges.

Last night, while innocently slumbering, this dream entered my head (sorry Pinko, no celebs that I could tell unless you count me, your Current Cookie Queen):

I dreamed last night that I was cooking up a bunch of meat in a pot (gack). There were ribs and other cuts that looked mainly like pork. I then noticed an arm! There was part of the hand on it, but no fingers, no skin, and it was boned!! It also looked like pork, which doesn’t surprise me given we’re supposed to be closest to pork. (I think the Papuans called humans, Long Pigs!!!) In my dream I told Grizzled, who in his best *raised by Depression parents* tone said, “Ah, just cook it up, it’ll be fine!” I refused to, but don’t recall how the dream ended.

I chalk it up to too much bake-off talk yesterday with people saying they were going to submit meat (whether on the hoof or in a recipe) and then going to bed with the news on and hearing that the Peterson man whose wife is *missing* had a relative help him dispose of a large barrel...

Anyone coming up with the idea of sending *limb-shaped* cookies will be disqualified.

Yes, it's only day 2 and I'm feeling cranky.

FYI for Pinko... the judges are as follows:

Me
AG
UC
Grizzled aka G-Unit
 

I just love stress dreams (Sorry Pinko, no celebs)

You know how sometimes you go to bed knowing you probably won't sleep well even though you're exhausted? That was the feeling I had upon going to bed last night. I fell asleep fairly fast, but was awakened by my eldest lamblet, not once, but twice, because she couldn't fall asleep. I was then awakened around 2 when the thunderstorms rolled in. I usually love thunderstorms, but these were annoying and on top of it, my dog was panting and pacing. I think I finally drifted back to annoyed sleep somewhere close to 4 and was immediately immersed in the fully chocked dream. I think our brains know when we haven't been getting enough REM so they cram all dreaming matter into one, roller coaster of a dream. I don't remember all of my dream, but I do recall taking my youngest lamblet to the dentist. While waiting for her appointment to finish, crowns started popping off of my teeth... more crowns than I have. I was worried, but at least I was at the dentist. I told him and he said, no problem, they had installed an extra chair and he could repair my teeth the very same day! I followed him wondering where they had put the extra chair. I was led through a gymnasium filled with kids who were playing and also camping out on the floor. After making our way through the gym, we crossed through something that reminded me of the Marshall Fields Tea Room, full of ladies who lunch. Where was this chair??? We ended up in some old building that had a swimming pool in it. If you've even seen Sneakers, it looked like the one in that movie (sorry Pinko, no Robert Redford), a swimming pool in a dark basement lit only by the underwater lights of the pool. And yes, there was my chair... in the pool. At least it was in the shallow end. It appeared that while seated, the water would only come up to my chest. I sat down and my dentist left to finish up on his other patients... and then I woke up feeling even more tired than when I had gone to bed with sore jaws from having clenched my teeth all night.

My dog is sleeping again. After his restless night, he's deep in sleep that is accented with little high-pitched woofs and twitching paws. Maybe he's at the dentist's... in a swimming pool.

Grandma is in the house!

Grandma showed up for a pre-dawn visit this morning. I thought I was sleeping, but I was not. I was not fully awake either. Grizzled got up at some God-forsaken hour and I was desperately trying to ignore the fact that movement was going on, that someone's day had started. I was not ready for mine to start... and then Grandma came and I was fully awake.

My grandmother has been visiting me off and on since she left this mortal coil back in the mid-80's. No, I don't see Grandma, I am just overwhelmed with the feeling of her and part of my brain registers her arrival before the thinking part. I had one instance like this where I was cleaning out the bathtub and I felt a touch on the neck. Did this startle me? No. What startled me was my response. I felt a touch and without thinking, without a second of delay, I heard myself say, "Oh hi, Grandma!" That freaked me out a tad.

Grandma came to visit after my first daughter was born. I was holding my babe and was walking back and forth when I felt a touch on my cheek. I stopped and smiled and was overwhelmed with the feeling of my grandmother. I was not surprised that she'd want to see my baby. I think she thought I'd never "settle down" let alone get around to having a child or two.

That same babe had a brush with Grandma when she was between 2 and 3. She told me she had felt something kiss her on the cheek while she was in bed. I told her it was probably me. I said I came in all the time and gave her late night smooches. She said it wasn't me, she knew what my kisses felt like and this was not my kiss. She said this was even softer. I suggested her perhaps she was dreaming or perhaps her blanket had brushed her face. No... she said, that wasn't it. She said she was awake and her blanket was no where near her face. She said this kiss felt like it went right through her. At that moment she looked at me and said she knew who it was! She said it was my grandmother. I told her I had two (two women I had not yet discussed with her). She then replied that it was my mother's mother. I wasn't surprised.

I have no firm beliefs on what happens when people leave their human form. I've always liked the Shakespeare quote from Hamlet, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy." I would like to think that anything is possible.

This morning I felt the undeniable presence of my grandmother and after sitting down to the computer I see that today would have been her anniversary and tomorrow, her birthday, so I give a nod to Grandma and to those things we can't explain.

The ghosts are always bigger at night...

That is what my father always says... the ghosts are bigger at night... what you can put into perspective during the day or maybe just ignore somehow takes on bigger weight if you're awake in the wee hours.

I woke up approximately around 1:30am... I wake up often in the middle of the night, but many times, am able to go back to sleep before the ghosts of the past, present and future get my ear... not last night. Last night I woke up and poof, I was awake with about a million thoughts in my head. They ranged from, "have the girls done all schoolwork they needed to do before school starts up again?" to "why is only my left nostril plugged???" to "if you had a 40's kitchen in the 40's, would it seem modern or as depressing as they seem to me today???".

I'm sure I had a full 20 minutes of chat with the Ghost of Self-Doubt, followed by my next appointment with the Ghost of Cosmic Doom who was then followed by the Ghost of How Did I Get To Be This Old???

Why don't the happy ghosts visit at night? Why only the nay-sayers? Where's the Ghost of Bounty? The Ghost of Bad One-Liners? How often do we wake up snorting from a good joke instead of gasping from imagined peril? Rarely if ever... And if any of you do wake up snorting from a good joke... I want that ghost's number...

My visiting ghosts are smaller now that it's daylight, but they are still here... I can feel them... it feels like the gravity has been turned up too high. I think I'm going to go out and run some errands and I am hoping that once I return, they will have realized they overstayed their welcome and will be gone.